


Sickly Sweet

by Shay_Moonsilk



Series: Sweet Series [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crying over Disney Movies, Cuddling & Snuggling, Gen, Hastur likes Aziraphale, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Protective Crowley, Sick Aziraphale (Good Omens), Sickfic, Vomiting, someone please tell Aziraphale so he believes it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-27 00:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21383335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shay_Moonsilk/pseuds/Shay_Moonsilk
Summary: When Aziraphale was sick around Gabriel, he had to learn to hide himself away. Now that he's with Crowley, that's not the case. Slowly, Aziraphale will start to understand that these people like him for him and want to see him do well.This is a sickfic where Aziraphale learns it's okay to be sick, because Crowley and Hastur are there for him. It's a one-shot sequel to 'Sweet Temptation'.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Hastur (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Hastur (Good Omens), Hastur & Ligur (Good Omens)
Series: Sweet Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1541242
Comments: 41
Kudos: 612
Collections: Good Omens Human AUs





	Sickly Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> I was sick last Monday night/Tuesday morning, and what do I do when sick? I project onto Aziraphale, of course! This isn't as tender with Crowley as I wanted, so I'm sorry about that :( But Hastur elbowed his way in and was like, "oh, is my kid sick? Time to make it all about me" and I was like "oh shit you're right" so... there's that??? 
> 
> I'm feeling 'meh' right now because I'm supposed to be doing a lot of schoolwork, but it and work stress me out, so I write as free therapy XD I hope you enjoy it!

When Aziraphale lived with Gabriel, something he learned about his boyfriend had been how very much Gabriel liked things being neat, clean, and orderly. There was a certain method Gabriel demanded to properly maintain order. Anything that deviated from that order made him angry. Quickly, Aziraphale learned that it was not good when Gabriel was angry. 

Very rarely did Aziraphale allow himself to get sick while they were seeing each other. Once, he had the flu, and Gabriel had  _ not  _ been happy about it. Thankfully, he had multiple bedrooms in his apartment, and one was even a guest room. So while Aziraphale had been sick, he moved into the guest room to make sure he could stay out of Gabriel’s way. And he was careful about times that he went into the kitchen to get soup, because he didn’t want to contaminate any of the food Gabriel had set aside for himself. He had to be  _ very _ careful and clean fastidiously after himself whenever he used the kitchen or bathroom, lest he want Gabriel to get sick. And of course, after three weeks, when they could be  _ sure _ he wasn’t sick anymore, Aziraphale happily moved back into his bedroom with Gabriel and properly thanked him for getting everything Aziraphale had needed when he was sick delivered to the kitchen counter for his convenience. It was really very considerate of him. 

When he had been living on his own, Aziraphale had gotten sick every month, usually for a couple days at a time, as a result of poor heating and not enough food and a stressful work schedule. Madame Tracey - not a doctor yet - had been kind to give him some extra blankets and cans of soup. He even got to use her microwave to heat them up. But for the most part, he huddled in those blankets on that terrible mattress to wait out the gross feelings. If he looked alright, which he usually did with the help of make up, he still did his cam work, and tried to use his scratchy throat or rasping voice to give an  _ allure _ . His fake moaning reached peak performance quality this way, so he could think of it as a learning opportunity at least. 

Then he met Crowley, and his body knew better than to waste any time with such an incredible man as him  _ sick _ . That simply wouldn’t do. So for their time together Aziraphale did his best to not get sick, which was mostly just him thinking really hard about not getting sick, and doing his best to please Crowley. Of course, then their six month celebration came, and he got mugged, and taken to the hospital, and everything  _ else _ had happened, and his focus got distracted by  _ love _ and  _ safety _ . 

Everything was going so wonderfully. For once. So naturally, it all needed to come crashing down. 

Aziraphale knew something was  wrong the _moment_ he woke up. His body was shivering, and his skin felt so  _ cold _ . Yet somehow, at the same time, his head felt flushed and warm, like his brain was going to boil out of his ears at any moment. And his nose wasn't working. 

Something _agonizing_ was building in his stomach and chest that made it difficult to breathe, and by instinct he stumbled his way into the bathroom, making it in just the nick of time to collapse over the toilet and expel what he had eaten the night before. 

Crowley woke to a  _ horrible _ sound - it was the unmistakable sound of someone throwing up. 

_Fuck_, and it sounded bad.

There were only two people sleeping in the bedroom, so if it wasn’t him that was sick, it had to be his angel. They had been hosting an impromptu dinner party. Lilith enjoyed calling Aziraphale some mornings when he and Hastur weren’t figuring out how to transfer life insurance to his name. So the entire firm met up that night to enjoy Lillith’s and Aziraphale’s cooking. It had been a lovely evening, and Crowley had only just kicked everyone out a few hours ago. So it was all the more concerning that Aziraphale was _awake_ and _obviously_ ill. 

He didn't bother calling out, especially since it wasn't like Aziraphale was going to be able to _reply_. Instead, he walked to the bathroom and retrieved a couple hand towels to soak in water while Aziraphale continued to be sick. Crowley felt himself  _ wince _ in sympathy. It truly sounded awful, and he  _ didn’t _ like the way Aziraphale was shaking.

Finally, Crowley could hear him take a few deep breaths, and slump to the side. He took the towels and knelt down, wanting to take advantage of the reprieve. 

"What's going on?" He asked gently, carefully dabbing Aziraphale's face. 

Aziraphale rewarded him with a grateful moan, leaning into the touch unconsciously. He shivered, but was trying to resist burrowing into him. Crowley thought about the fleece blanket he kept near the bed, and cursed himself for not bringing it in. 

"I-I just," Aziraphale stammered, but then threw himself over the toilet again. Crowley winced again, and rubbed his back while Aziraphale shuddered to try and stop. 

“It’s alright,” He encouraged, “It’s okay.” 

It  _ wasn’t _ alright, it definitely  _ wasn’t _ okay, but it’s not like it was his boyfriend’s fault. “Stay here,” Crowley said, though it wasn’t like he was going anywhere. A quick trip back to the bedroom let him retrieve the aforementioned blanket, and then he grabbed the thermometer from the medicine cabinet. 

In the time it took him to do that, Aziraphale seemed to have finished. His head was leaning against the edge, trying desperately to cool his head even though his body was still shivering. 

“Here,” Crowley knelt down again, and held the thermometer to his temple. After hearing a beep, he pulled it away as the machine chimed out  _ ‘One - Oh- Three.’ _

“So that’s a fever,” Crowley said. He ran a hand through the curls, and Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered closed at the feeling. With the blanket, Crowley spread it around him like a cocoon. Gratefully, Aziraphale pulled it close, and seemed content to stay leaning against the toilet. Which wouldn’t do. 

“Alright, come on,” He said. Crowley gently gripped his upper arms, and encouraged him to stand. “Time to go back to bed.”

“Don’ wanna ruin it,” Aziraphale slurred, sounding oddly petulant in a way Crowley was unused to. Aziraphale was usually always so articulate and put together. Now he was sounding more like a young man who was grumpy when sick. It was adorable. Aziraphale swayed slightly, and gave a very confused blink when Crowley steadied him. Rarely was Aziraphale so docile enough that Crowley could have him go where he needed him to.

They stumbled back to bed, Aziraphale seemed half out of it, and nauseas. 

“You’re not going to ruin it,” Crowley gently chided. It was easy enough to pull Aziraphale alongside him. He tucked his boyfriend back in, and Aziraphale slowly laid down again, faintly trembling. 

Crowley pulled a trashcan near the edge. “You don’t have to run to the bathroom next time, alright?” He said. He made Aziraphale open his eyes long enough to look at the bin, and then set it down. 

Aziraphale closed his eyes, trying to keep the world from spinning around him. “Do I need to go to a hotel?” He asked. 

“What are you talking about?” Crowley asked, bewildered. “Do you like to find hotels when you’re sick?” 

Because his eyes were closed, and because he was too out of it to think twice, Aziraphale just answered. “I don’t want to get you sick, or clutter the apartment by being disgusting. But you don’t have a bedroom for me to move into for a month. So I’ll need to go somewhere… maybe my old apartment is still available to rent.” 

Thankfully, Aziraphale’s eyes weren’t open so he missed the way Crowley’s face went red with anger, and how his eyes flashed dangerously. 

“You’re not going  _ anywhere _ ,” Crowley said, struggling to keep his voice calm, “You’re going to stay right  _ here _ , in  _ this _ bed. Or in the living room, if you want to watch television. But you’re not leaving this apartment and going outside in the middle of the night. Hastur will literally murder me if something happened to you.” 

And Lucifer, and Beelzebub, and Lilith, and probably Ligur too at this point, but Aziraphale still had a hard enough time believing  _ Hastur _ liked him. 

“I don’t wanna… get in … the way,” Aziraphale slurred, but he was falling fast asleep. 

Crowley pressed a kiss to this temple, and spent the next several minutes googling potential medication that answered the symptoms Aziraphale had. But after the search turned up with ‘cancer’ as a result, he counted it a lost cause. Instead, he found their insurance card and dialed the after-hours number, described Aziraphale's symptoms, and was given a prescription over the phone that he could fill anywhere. 

But he didn’t want to leave Aziraphale alone. This was a health insurance / glasses situation all over again, where Aziraphale seemed to think that he didn’t need help and was going to try and do something stupid like go to his old apartment to 'stay out of the way'. Crowley was going to have to stay near and  _ watch  _ him. So he sent out a text to Hastur.

_ Aziraphale’s sick, I need to get him a prescription. Can you stay with him? _

Immediately, he got a reply. He hadn't expected that, but Hastur had always disliked sleep.  _ Well shit. I’ll get it. I’ll watch the kid today. Drive yourself into work for once.  _

Crowley snorted. Hastur  _ hated _ being around sick people. He had always kept a wide berth when any of them at the firm were sick - once when Anathema had a cold he refused to enter the office at all. But Aziraphale got the special treatment of his watchful - if not overbearing - eye. How did Aziraphale not get it? 

——-

Before Hastur arrived Aziraphale did not get any better. Like clockwork, every thirty minutes, Aziraphale woke up to throw up in the trash can. Crowley had given him some cold water to drink, but that only made it  _ worse _ . Anything cold, he soon realized, only made Aziraphale more frequently ill. So he put out some water and Gatorade out to get lukewarm enough for him to drink. 

Aziraphale had  _ no _ appetite. Crowley had a couple boxes of crackers, but when he offered one Aziraphale went green and the offer was retracted. Aziraphale was struggling to keep  _ anything _ down. At a certain point, Crowley stopped trying to convince him to eat anything until Hastur arrived with the medicine. 

“What would you like?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale had already thrown up for the hour, and didn’t seem able to fall back asleep. 

His boyfriend shifted, trying to get comfortable. Crowley encouraged Aziraphale to lean into him. The attorney carded his fingers through his hair, and Aziraphale gave a grateful moan, nuzzling into the sensation. Aziraphale shifted until his head was laying on his chest. With his other hand, Crowley gently stroked his back. Aziraphale was still cold, and was thus cocooned by the blanket. 

“I don’t know,” Aziraphale moaned, “Just let me die in peace.”

Crowley bit back a laugh. “You’re not _dying_, angel.”

“I don’t want to be  _ disgusting _ in front of you,” Aziraphale protested, “This isn’t cute. Just let me be sick in a hotel alone.” 

“I’m not sending you away to be sick,” Crowley said, “I’m your boyfriend, and I'm going to take care of you because I love you.” 

“I don’t want to get in your way,” Aziraphale groaned, “You are more important, I need to not disturb you. And I'm going to have to clean everything or else you'll be sick too, and I don't want that, do I?” 

Crowley growled. “You’re not expected to _clean_ _anything_, or worry about me. Your job is to _rest_, to try and get better. I’m not  _ more  _ important than you are.” 

Aziraphale shifted, clearly uncomfortable with his words. 

Crowley pursed his lips. "Can I take a wild guess at something?"

Aziraphale nodded. 

"Did you get sick with Gabriel, who didn't want to get sick himself?" Crowley asked. But it wasn't  _ really _ asking. These were phrases that he had heard Aziraphale use before when he would repeat something his ex used to tell him. 

When Aziraphale nodded again, Crowley groaned. “I want to hit Gabriel for making you believe that,” Crowley said, “But I’m not going to, because that would take me away from you, and I want to make sure you will be okay. But you need to know that  _ I love you _ , and that means loving you in sickness and in health.” 

He very carefully didn’t acknowledge how those were wedding vows. Aziraphale wasn’t in a place -  _ especially _ right now - to have this conversation. 

So he was Not Thinking About It. 

This was a lie. 

Crowley was definitely Thinking About It. 

——-

Hurricane Hastur descended on his apartment in a demanding fury. For someone who didn’t like to hang around sick people, he had obviously done a ton of research in the time it took to get the apartment with Aziraphale’s medicine. 

“Alright,” Hastur said, looking around the cabinets. He had had the foresight to pick up food for Aziraphale: rice, a loaf of bread, and applesauce. All things that someone with the stomach flu needed. That had been more than Crowley had been prepared for, considering he had not wanted to leave Aziraphale’s side.

“This is terrible. You were completely unprepared,” Hastur snarked, unloading the groceries. Crowley didn’t bother replying, instead he went to help unload. 

“I have an appearance today, it’s on the Dowling case,” Crowley said. Their client, Thaddeus, was being sued. Crowley was the best suited to work the case because he had to work mostly with their poor kid, Warlock, who was involved. And Warlock liked Crowley the most, so Crowley couldn’t pass it off today. Crowley never dropped the ball on a case, especially if a child was involved. 

“So you’ll handle that, I’ll watch him,” Hastur said, glad to  _ not _ need to speak with Warlock if he could help it. They did  _ not _ get along. 

Crowley went back into the bedroom to wake up Aziraphale. He sat down, taking a moment to look down at his boyfriend. Aziraphale’s face twitched a bit, and Crowley gently moved some of his curls. 

Aziraphale was currently having a strange series of dreams. In the first dream, the whole firm was there. Everyone had wings, yet for some reason Crowley still had the Bentley. And he and Crowley were in the middle of a  _ horrible _ fight, which made him so  _ upset _ . He wanted to shout at his silly self for yelling at Crowley, but couldn’t seem to  _ stop the fighting _ . Crowley was threatening to take his car to the stars and leave him behind  _ forever _ . But then, in the next dream, they were eating cake on the moon, and it was  _ lovely _ . Then, in the third dream, they seemed to be in a garden, and Crowley was a  _ snake _ . Aziraphale was eating an apple, while Crowley twined around and around him. 

All told, being sick was a strange experience that he did not want to repeat ever. It was a relief to be gently shaken awake by Crowley, who gently stroked his hair until he opened his eyes. 

“Hey love,” He smiled at Aziraphale, who blinked at him confusedly. 

“Don’t leave me,” Aziraphale begged, “I don’t want you to leave me for Alpha Centauri.”

Crowley gaped, “Alpha what? Angel, what the fuck are you talking about?” 

Aziraphale’s lower lip wobbled. “You’re going to take your car and fly away,” He said, looking so heartbroken that Crowley somehow felt guilty even though he had _no idea what was happening,_ “And then I’ll be left alone in the garden with a snake and apples.” 

The attorney placed his hand against his forehead. “We need to get some fluids in you,” He decided, “You’re getting fever dreams.” 

There wasn’t a reply Aziraphale had to that, because he needed to lean over and throw up in the trash can. Crowley rubbed his back, making sympathetic noises. 

“What day is it?” Aziraphale asked, when he was done, “I feel like I’ve been sick for ten years.” 

“It’s been a few hours,” Crowley said, and very carefully did not snort. “You’ll get past this in a day or two. Just rest. Hastur’s here.” 

Aziraphale already seemed out of it, and was shifting his gaze to the bucket. “Why is Hastur here?” 

“Because he likes you, and wants to help you get better,” Crowley said. 

"Why?” Aziraphale asked. Before Crowley could think of a reply, Hastur came into the room. 

“Because,” Hastur said, “Crowley thinks you’ll get better on the  _ power of love,”  _ He mocked, “Whereas I actually brought medicine that a doctor prescribed.”

Aziraphale gave him a dubious look. “I just have to pretend I’m better,” He said, “And then the sickness will just go away.”

Hastur groaned, very loudly. 

“No. No. Just. No,” He said, “You’re going to listen to me.” Hastur surveyed Aziraphale critically, “Here’s what is going to happen today. I brought over movies. All we are going to do today is take the medicine I brought, and watch these movies. And then  _ maybe _ later, you will eat toast.”

At the mention of toast, Aziraphale’s face seemed to go green. 

“We’re not there yet, obviously,” Hastur said, waving away Aziraphale’s expression. “But that is what the plan is for today. There will be  _ no  _ reading of any of your boyfriend’s law books, or research, or plans to email him  _ anything _ about his case. He’s a barred attorney with a job, he can do that job without you bailing him out for once.” 

Aziraphale gave a weak laugh, and Crowley bit back his scowl of annoyance. If Hastur could get Aziraphale to feel a little better, the dig was worth it. 

“I have to go into Court today,” Crowley said, “But Hastur’s going to stay here with you.” 

“We’ve _established_ that,” Hastur said, and Aziraphale gave another smile. “It’s time for you to get going, or else you’ll be late.”

“Not if I’m driving,” Crowley promised, pressing a kiss to Aziraphale’s forehead. 

“Please don’t drive too fast,” Aziraphale begged, giving another slow blink. He was feeling rather out of it again. “I don’t want you to drive to space and the moon and stars without me.” 

“I would  _ never _ drive into the stars without you,” Crowley promised, though he had no idea what Aziraphale was talking about. But it seemed to make him feel better, and Aziraphale gave him a smile.

“Tell Warlock I said hello. He’s been interested in plants, talk to him about them.”

“I will,” Crowley promised. Aziraphale had helped get Crowley to connect with Warlock, and the kid had taken a liking to Aziraphale. 

“No texting about work,” Hastur snapped, “Your goal today is to feel better.” 

Aziraphale nodded, and Crowley gave one more kiss to his forehead before leaving. 

Hastur was strict, yet caring. He had Aziraphale take some of the medication, which thankfully was just a tablet that dissolved under his tongue. Hastur then kept him bundled in the blanket, and corralled him to the living room. Aziraphale went, slowly, and found himself bundled on the couch. Hastur put a cup of water in front of him, and started putzing with the television. 

“Alright, so I’m assuming you’ve seen no movies,” He said. 

“Gabriel and I used to watch  _ The Sound of Music _ ,” Aziraphale said, settling against some pillows.

Hastur stared at him. “I am not replying to that.” He turned back to the television, and  _ The Princess Bride  _ started to play. “There are certain films you  _ have _ to watch when you’re sick, this is the first.”

Aziraphale settled into the couch, feeling his eyes flutter. “As you wish,” He said, and was confused when Hastur laughed. 

——-

Aziraphale sniffled as the movie came to an end. “That was… that was amazing!” 

“Right,” Hastur said, “It’s a classic!” 

“Is it based off of a book?” Aziraphale asked, “All the best things are books.”

“It’s based off a book,” Hastur said, and when Aziraphale did an excited  _ wiggle,  _ he made a note to get it for him later. “But all the best things are  _ not  _ books.” 

Aziraphale leaned to throw up, and when he was done, he glared at Hastur. “Are too,” He argued, maturely. 

“People aren’t books,” Hastur said, and grinned as Aziraphale made a face. 

“People are  _ mean _ ,” Aziraphale pouted, “ _ You _ were mean.” He was, of course, referring to one of his dreams, the garden one, where Hastur had been a frog who kept causing fires. Only Aziraphale had forgotten that that had been a dream only  _ he _ had had, and there was no way Hastur would have known what he meant. Hastur assumed Aziraphale meant his attitude towards the younger man when he and Crowley first got together. 

While both men were thinking of two completely different scenarios, both were right. 

There was a pang of guilt that went through Hastur, but Aziraphale didn’t notice because he was grabbing the trashcan to throw up. After a few moments, Aziraphale leaned back, done for the next hour or two. 

“Look,” Hastur said, uncomfortably, “I’m sorry about that.”

“Sorry about what?” Aziraphale half-slurred, already having forgotten what they were talking about. 

“I’m sorry,” Hastur said, “That I was an asshole when we first met. I assumed you were after Crowley’s money, or to take down the firm.”

“Why would I want to take down the firm?” Aziraphale asked. He stared at the glass of water, debating drinking it. “That would be so much work.”

“Well you would have been working with another firm,” Hastur said, realizing how stupid that sounded when he said it out loud. 

“That sounds really stupid,” Aziraphale grumbled. He picked up the glass, and then thought better of it and put it back down.

Hastur shifted. “Well, yeah, and I know you now. You wouldn’t do that.” 

“Thank you,” Aziraphale smiled. “And thank you for spending time with me, I know you’re only doing it because you feel bad and Crowley asked you and he’s paying you.”

Hastur stared at him. “I’m going to not get mad at you, because you are sick and don’t understand what you are saying,” He said slowly, and Aziraphale blinked at the intensity in his voice, “But don’t  _ ever _ insinuate that I’m here with you out of pity, or because you boyfriend asked me to. I’m here because I care about you, and I like you, and you’re like a son to me.”

Aziraphale’s eyes were shining, and it wasn’t clear if it was from the fever or from his words. “That’s,” He wobbled, and Hastur cursed. “That’s beautiful,” and Aziraphale leaned over the trashcan again. 

“Alright, alright,” Hastur got back up, “We’re going to watch one more movie, and then one of these pills is supposed to knock you out for a couple of hours.” 

——-

Ligur didn’t normally get texts at work. Mostly because the people who would text him were already in the office, and because Hastur was usually busy off doing whatever odd job he was picking up that day. 

So getting a text from him was a surprise. Crowley didn’t need him at the moment, he was still working with the Dowling family. Ligur took advantage of the free moment to check his phone, and then he laughed. 

_ Shit - I broke our Aziraphale, _ Hastur had texted. 

Ligur, in all his helpfulness, texted back,  _ LOL. Wdym? _

Hastur hated him in that moment, for both the laughter and text-speak.  _ I showed him Moana and he won’t stop crying. He said she was so brave and wonderful.  _

_ Show him Dumbo _ , Ligur suggested.  _ It'll get him to stop crying about Moana at least. _

_ You are not helpful, _ Hastur replied. 

Hastur put the phone away, and gave Aziraphale another tissue. “I know, I know  _ Moana _ is great,” He said, “I think it’s time for the other pill.” 

“Okay,” Aziraphale agreed, trying to calm down his own tears, and blew his nose. Hastur went to put on  _ The Lord of The Rings _ , because Aziraphale had at least read the books and could doze to this. 

"I wish I were a hobbit," Aziraphale half-slurred, half-mumbled. 

"Yeah, you would make a good hobbit," Hastur mused. 

Aziraphale sniffled. "That's so… so … _nice_ of you. I love you."

He was  _ very _ sick, Hastur rationalized, and  _ very _ out of it. So it was for that reason that he could gently ruffle his hair and say, "I love you too."

\-------

Crowley came back to the apartment hours later, and caught Aziraphale and Hastur in the middle of the third  _ Lord of the Rings _ movie. Aziraphale was in the middle of complaining about the lack of Tom Bombadil, and some discourse about Arwen's family that hadn't made it into the film. Hastur was arguing for the appearance of it, but Crowley could tell that he was amused. 

"These movies are too long anyway!" Hastur had cried out. "Why would you want  _ everything _ included?"

"Because you should do it  _ right _ ," Aziraphale pouted, and then blew his nose. It was adorable. 

To Crowley's delight, there was a plate in front of Aziraphale with half-eaten toast and applesauce. That was a positive turn, because clearly he was feeling well enough to start slowly eating. 

"How are you feeling?" He asked, taking a seat on the couch. To his delight, Aziraphale leaned his cocooned body into him, and Crowley wrapped his arms around the burrito. 

“Only a little like death,” Aziraphale said, which a smile. “I haven’t thrown up since Gandalf showed off fireworks.”

That would have made it  _ hours  _ ago, and Crowley grinned. “See? You’re already feeling better.” 

Aziraphale smiled and snuggled closer. 

“Alright,” Hastur stood up, “My young eyes don’t need to see you two being cute and disgusting. My work here is done.” 

“Thank you Hastur,” Aziraphale smiled at him, “For staying with me.”

Hastur waved him off, but did come over to give him a hug. “Of course. You better get better and not work tomorrow.”

“He won’t,” Crowley promised, “I’m not going in, so we’ll be able to take tomorrow easy.” 

None of them had any way of knowing it, but this would soon become a tradition. As Aziraphale would later get into school, and later clerk for his boyfriend’s father, the stress of his intense schedule, combined with a lack of a steady sleeping schedule, would lead into many of his breaks spent sick in bed. Crowley would make sure to stay with him as often as he could, but there would be days where Hastur would come in and spend time with him. They would make a tradition out of planting themselves on couches to catch up on films Aziraphale had yet to see. 

Of course, it was a pain that it would take Aziraphale getting sick to have moments like this, but it was nice to spend time together at all. And it helped Aziraphale understand and learn that there were people other than Crowley who genuinely cared about his well being. 

In the present, however, they had no way of knowing this. So Hastur bade his farewell and left them for the day. 

Crowley and Aziraphale snuggled together, watching the last film come to an end. Aziraphale dozed off and on, resting his head on Crowley’s chest. For a moment, Crowley pressed his lips to the top of his boyfriend’s head, and could no longer feel the heat of a fever. That was another good sign, and Crowley hoped that tomorrow would be an easier day for Aziraphale to just let himself rest. 

The movie came to an end, and Crowley stretched a bit, letting Aziraphale wake up gradually. 

“C’mon,” He said gently, encouraging Aziraphale to sit up, “Let’s go to bed.” 

In all the time they had been dating, he’d never seen Aziraphale agree so quickly to going to bed. Aziraphale shifted off of him, yawning and shifting the blanket around him. 

“Just give me a moment, and I’ll stand,” Aziraphale promised. 

“I could give you a moment, yeah,” Crowley agreed, “But I don’t think I will.”

“What do you-” Aziraphale began, but then Crowley had already lifted him into his arms. The attorney grinned at the shocked gasp he got. It didn’t matter that he had done this before, Aziraphale still gave him this reaction every time he got picked up. Crowley liked it - it made a man feel wanted. 

Crowley carried him back to bed, and wrapped himself around Aziraphale. The two of them fell asleep, wrapped up in each other. 

The next day, Aziraphale didn’t throw up when he woke up. Crowley was able to tempt him to some toast and lukewarm water, but he promised the minute Aziraphale felt ready he would get cocoa. 

“You spoil me,” Aziraphale giggled. He knew, rationally, that he shouldn’t even try something as intense as cocoa for several more days. But it was sweet that Crowley wanted him to have what he liked. 

“You deserve it,” Crowley replied, with a smile. He offered to show Aziraphale another movie, but Aziraphale said no. 

“I was hoping to do some reading,” Aziraphale admitted. He held up his mother’s old copy of  _ Pride and Prejudice _ , that Crowley had helped bring back from Gabriel’s. “This was one of my favorites.”

“You shouldn’t be reading,” Crowley frowned, “I’m sure that’s straining your eyes and your glasses are in the other room.” 

Aziraphale’s face fell, and Crowley mentally sighed. 

“I’ll read it to you,” Crowley offered, and Aziraphale brightened. 

“Oh, will you?” He asked, and did a triumphant  _ wiggle  _ when Crowley nodded. 

So they resettled on the couch. Crowley was leaning up, while Aziraphale pillowed on his chest, his ear pressed against his boyfriend’s heart. Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered closed, so he could focus on his lover’s voice, and only his voice. 

Crowley had been _incredible_. Aziraphale could let himself be _safe_ here, even though he was not being particularly cute. Even though he couldn’t thank Crowley, and was sick besides. Crowley had said he loved him, that he wanted to be here for the good and the bad, and he _meant_ it. Aziraphale really, really loved him. 

With one hand, Crowley held the novel, and his other gently stroked along Aziraphale’s spine. His voice rang out, and it was the only soft sound to echo through the apartment that day. 

“ It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! I'm Shay Moonsilk on Discord and Tumblr if you ever want to reach out or idea-share!


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